


Settle for nothing

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: F/M, I'll never write het again, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chester tells Sam he's going to the studio to work on the album, but she knows it's Brad that he's working on and she can't bring herself to tell him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Settle for nothing

In retrospect, she really should have known.

She’s already in bed when Chester finally comes home from the studio. Before he left he smiled broadly, kissed her neck telling her he wouldn’t be too late. Then at nine, when she rang his cell phone, he mumbled for her not to wait up whilst somebody giggled in the background.

He strips down to his boxers in front of her and climbs into bed. She rolls over to face him and smiles slowly. Shifts closer to his body, kicking a leg over both of his and kissing his cheek and sliding one hand down his chest to his boxers. For a minute he looks like he might protest. She can hear the words “Not tonight, Sammy,” before they even come out of his mouth.

But he doesn’t say anything. He rolls on top of her, dipping his head to kiss her softly. It’s been too long since they did this and she arches her hips up as he rolls his down, their bodies moving in synch. His breath tickles her ear as he presses himself against her one last time before kissing her neck. Then her collar bone, then he takes a nipple between his teeth gently, earning a breathless whimper.

He kisses her navel then just below it. She spreads her legs in anticipation as he lowers his mouth further, shivers when he gently brushes a finger over her clitoris and pushes it inside of her, closely followed by another. Parts her lips with his other hand and swirls his tongue over the warm flesh revealed.

She lies back, sighing softly. He flicks his tongue back and forth, completely missing her clitoris and doing nothing for her. At least he’s trying, though, which is a change to usually handing her a sex toy and lying back to watch. She’s bored and stares at the ceiling (which needs painting so fucking badly but she can’t do it and if he won’t even have sex with his wife she doubts he’ll do any chores) wondering if he’ll stop soon.

He spends more time with Brad than with her. He tells her he’s going to the studio but she knows what’s going on. For a long time she tried to kid herself. She told herself he really was a workaholic, this band was his life after all, but it didn’t wash.

It was always Brad, Brad, Brad. And she thinks he’s been sucking that man’s dick for so long he can’t even remember how to go down on his wife. She drops her hands to his hair and pulls him up for a kiss, tastes of herself and...beer. Cigarette smoke and warmth.

Reaching between their bodies she pulls his boxers down and his wriggles, laughing, kicks them off. She wraps a hand around his erection and strokes it lightly. Looks up and meets his eyes whispering, “Chester…”

There’s nothing there. No love. No lust. Just nothing. He probably doesn’t even realise but she does. Hates it. Hates the way she knew this would ruin their lives the minute they left Arizona but didn’t say anything because it was his dream damn it, and she had to respect that.

But now. Now he pushes into her slowly with a quiet groan and her name tumbles from his lips. She wonders what Brad’s name would sound like if he said it now, all breathy and desperate.

He pulls out of her and thrusts back in gently. She wonders if how he treats Brad. Does he slide a hand across his chest, thumbing his nipples then sliding lowly to grip his cock. At least he’d be able to find that, she thinks bitterly, reaching down to touch herself.

This is boring. And it’s breaking her heart. He could at least put some effort into it. Maybe he’s been fucking Brad so long he’s forgotten, forgotten that she’s not some delicate flower that he could crush.

Although, right now, she feels pretty crushed. She tenses her muscles around him and forces out a moan. Wants him to at least think she’s enjoying it. He moans her name loudly and thrusts into her one last time, emptying himself in her body.

Rolls off her almost immediately, giving her a chance to shimmy closer to him. He wraps a gentle arm around her and kisses her forehead, “Night baby,” he whispers and falls asleep almost instantly.

She sits up once his breathing evens out and slides out of bed. She grabs his baggy shirt from the floor, pulling it over her head and padding out to the balcony where she leans against railing and surveys the yard below her.

Some day, she thinks, she’ll confront him. She’ll be angry and she’ll point a finger at him yelling “You either love me or you love him and you can’t have us both, Chester.”

She’ll tell him how she’s known all along. Isn’t sure when it happened, supposes it was a gradual thing – something that developed over time. But she knew. All along. Kept telling herself it wasn’t true though. She didn’t want it to be true; she wanted to be enough for him. She wanted to be the one and only.

In the bedroom his cell phone buzzes, vibrating in his pants pocket. Sam glances over her shoulder to observe him, lying on his back bathed in moonlight. He’s beautiful. She wonders if Brad ever tells him that.

Tip-toeing back inside she crouches down to his pants and digs his cell phone from his pocket. One new message, says the screen, so she presses ‘read’.

 **From:** Brad   
**Message:** Hey hey, baby. Was hoping we could maybe get together tomorrow. Have something important to tell you. Tell Sam you’re going to Joe’s to work on samples and come to mine for about 7. Cya then.

Somewhere along the line she must have fucked up. She must have pushed him right into Brad’s arms. It’s all her fault, really. But she still clicks and deletes the message. Buries the phone back in his pocket and climbs back into bed.

Curling up against his side she feels bad. But then again she feels a sense of satisfaction. She kisses his bare shoulder and smirks to herself. Imagines Brad sitting at home thinking Chester stood him up and thinks of how it’s happened to her so many times before.

And, in the darkness, she laughs to herself. Thinks about karma. And the balance of the fucking universe. And, eventually, she falls asleep.


End file.
